


Good Lesson

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [83]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Absolutely No Hurt or Angst whatsoever, Fluff, Foreplay, Lemon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick and Greg have a night out, before a night in with each other.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [83]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257824
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Good Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [letswaitforme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/letswaitforme/gifts).



> both for a fic prompt anon from my last blog, who asked for “Nick and Greg on a date. Food stealing, nervous chuckles, drinks, red cheeks. Just let them be happy, yes?” and @letswaitforme who asked for pure fluff, no angst or hurt

It doesn’t matter what happened before, the angst and heartbreak and traumas that lead them to this moment. All that matters is that they’re here, now, with each other, enjoying their company in a private booth in a high end restaurant that they both agreed to splurge on--though ever the gentleman, Nick has already put his card down for the bill, unbeknownst to Greg.

They turn off their cell phones, except for Greg, who keeps his on for the sole purpose of capturing this night in a series of photos on his phone. A few selfies as he holds his cherry flavored spritzer drink, pretending he’s some sort of tourist on the first night of a week’s long vacation, rather than a citizen of the city who normally scoffs at such behavior--and also a few of Nick, already red faced as he chose something heavier, some whiskey cut with cola, relishing the bitter burn sliding down his throat and thinking of mountains and wood and a quiet night in. He wants to make sure both of their needs are met before his not-so-secret plan of getting Greg Sanders into his bed is enacted, and so he’s more than willing to indulge Greg into a few couple’s selfies, a few candid shots of his increasingly loosening floating of his normally uptight personality. 

The food comes after the second round of drinks, and with it, the third round is balanced out by Greg’s rack of lamb, Nick’s steak and fries. Greg dares to steal a fry from Nick’s plate and a dark shadow passes over his face as his thieving boyfriend’s lips wrap around the shaft of the handheld food--there’s a tingling numbness that tickles the plump flesh as he realizes just what he’s done, Nick’s always been the protective type, especially over his food--

But instead of any sort of  _ actual  _ anger, a wide smile spreads across Nick’s face after Greg gulps down the phallic potato. Nick picks out the thickest, longest french fry he can find on his plate and leans over the table, inserting it into Greg’s mouth himself. Greg plays along, a nervous chuckle shaking his body before he gulps it down in one go--coughing as he chases it down with some alcohol while Nick leans back into his own fit of giggles. 

“You’re diluted,” Greg slurs in another chuckle.

“I think you mean  _ deluded,  _ there, G,” Nick wheezes as his cheeks turn a darker shade of red. 

“How’s tha’ whiskey not doing anything to you?” Greg whines, signaling for their waiter to come over and bring another round.

“Guess I can just hold it down better. Just like I could hold  _ you  _ down with just a finger.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Greg’s eyes widen. “I’d like to see you try.”

Nick’s fingers dance on the table towards Greg, who’s distracted by the waiter long enough for Nick to “step” onto his hand, press a finger down which holds the hand in place, and before Greg realizes, Nick’s fingers wrap around his wrist entirely, reeling him in. 

“What--when--How’d you--?” Greg sputters.

“Guess I need to teach ya a lesson, you have so much yet to learn, my apprentice,” Nick whispers, as he slides around the booth to do a lap on Greg’s face with his musky, earthy infused tongue. 

“Need I remind you…” Greg whispers back, his hand traveling to the bulge in Nick’s pants and grabbing hold. “Who has more  _ experience  _ here?”

“Oh, low blow, Sanders,” Nick mock-gasps, though his voice has raised in pitch, and his own fingers travel to the sensitive spot on the back of Greg’s neck, applying just enough pressure for Greg to let out a small moan. 

“Wanna skip dessert?” Greg rolls his head onto Nick’s shoulder, dipping his finger in some remaining sauce from his entrée and licking it clean, making a point to suckle before bopping Nick on the nose.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Nick raises a hand, gesturing for their leftovers to be wrapped, for the lava cake to be brought out--the two scientists cut the foreplay for the sake of fulfilling the little nerd inside both of them as the chocolate explodes out and dribbles down the sides of the cake--Nick playfully flings some at Greg--a subtle food fight ensues, and any chocolate that lands on their skin is cleaned up with a tongue and affirming murmurs into nibbled ears. 

But even with the cleared plate after just mere minutes, neither men’s sweet tooth is satisfied, their appetites set to fulfill a different sort of hunger. 

They lock arms on their way out of the restaurant, and Greg wonders if the whiskey did in fact, affect Nick after all as this sort of display is a new one, though it breaks off once they get onto the bustling city street and Nick frees his arm to wave down a cab while Greg continues to hang onto the other, their fingers locking together in a hold that breaks when Nick, again the gentleman, opens the cab door for Greg.

Greg insists on paying the fare, given that Nick paid for dinner, and Nick’s too distracted to refute by the neon colors radiating an aura around Greg’s head, entrancing him and he reaches out, hoping to be engulfed with the same energy--his hand strokes the side of Greg’s cheek as he sinks down, falling towards the other man who catches him in a clumsy side-hug, and feeling a sense of pride as if he’s holding onto a trophy.

“Yer beautiful, G, have I toldja tha’ lately?” the words come out slurred in a heavy accent and Greg laughs, but not at Nick’s expense, just out of sheer joy that the high from dinner hasn’t stopped, they’re simply stepping to the next layer of clouds on their way to the highest peak; Nick’s bedroom.

Nick seems to find his energy as soon as the cab stops--whether due to a full bladder or the burning desire to finally relieve the tension that’s been building between them all night, Greg’s unsure but just as soon as he makes payment, Nick whisks him away and practically drags him into his home--though Greg gets a kick out of it, truly, the way he’s whipped around as soon as they pass the threshold, and Nick pins him to the wall, licking his lips before he goes down on the crook between Greg’s neck and shoulder blade and  _ sucks.  _

Greg moans into a twitching smile, already working on peeling the layers of clothing off of Nick--his glasses, the tie, the suit jacket--he’s delicate with the glasses but less so with the more durable materials that drop to the floor. Nick moves his hands from Greg’s wrists and begin work on unbuckling the pair of formal skinny jeans, leaving the button popped and sliding his hand through the open lips of the zipper, pressing against the throbbing flesh hidden behind a pair of boxers--he slides his hand between those lips, too, which gets a yelp out of Greg. He tugs on Nick’s hair, pulling his head back. 

“Slow down, there, man. Gotta get my notebook out…”

“What?” Nick chuckles in a scoff as his free hand works to unbutton Greg’s dress shirt. 

“You said you were gonna teach me a lesson, looks like school’s in session.”

“You make no sense when you’re drunk,” Nick laughs, his mouth traveling down from Greg’s neck to the newly exposed chest.

“Neither do you, but I love you anyway.”

“Mmm…love...you...too…” Nick moans as he peppers kisses all over Greg’s chest. 

His grip tightens on the hand in Greg’s crotch, before sliding out and pulling away from Greg’s body entirely, Greg feels a lone chill pass over him--his pants fall to the floor without the support of Nick’s arm to keep them up.

Nick seems just as cold, standing in a swaying stupor and holding a wordless finger in the air, before wagging at Greg, then pointing to the hallway.

“Bathroom,” Nick nods in a breathless huff. “Then bed.”

Greg follows after the man, who just makes it into the bathroom, leaving a crack in the door and he hears a trickle as he finishes stripping, preparing the bed, and himself for Nick’s return. 

It takes longer than expected for just a simple relief, but Nick was doing preparations of his own, coming out fully naked except for a shining coat of oil, a glob of lube resting in the palm of one hand, a pile of glitter in the other. 

“You ready?”

“Born ready,” Greg breathes, one second more and he would be making grabby hands towards the older man, who wastes no more time in setting wildfire loose on the sheets of his own bed. 


End file.
